Cheeny Celebrado-Royer‘s motorcycle has a flat. Sure, the two-wheeled vehicle is constructed out of upcycled cardboard tape, and twine, but its rear wheel is toast. It’s not merely deflated, but the rim’s got a flat spot like it was carrying an oversized cargo and hit a pothole at speed. Cyclists, of the human- or machine-powered variety, will see that flat spot and internally groan. An ordinary flat tire is quick, easy and cheap to fix. A rim with a flat spot means replacing or rebuilding the wheel, an investment of time and money. And if the two-wheeled vehicle is your main form of transportation—or what you use to work—it’s not something you can put off.
Tag: The Walters Art Museum
A visit to one of the city’s anchor art museums–the Walters, BMA or AVAM–is different every time. New exhibits are installed and old ones are taken out, obviously, but on a deeper level, the way you experience a certain work in the permanent collection can change. Maybe the lighting felt different. Maybe the things going on in your life made something about the piece more striking or less so. Or maybe you just decided to pay closer attention.
On Thursday, April 12 celebrated Southern floral designer Sybil Brooke Sylvester begins two days of programs to benefit of the Walters Art Museum. At Simply Beautiful Flowers from 5:30 to 7:30 p.m. Sylvester, the owner of Wildflower Designs in Birmingham, Alabama kicks off the two-day event with a workshop. A wine and cheese reception and a take-home arrangement are included for each participant.
Then on Friday, April 13 at 10:30 a.m. at the museum, A Spring Day at the Walters features Sylvester in a lecture and demonstration, “A Fresh Take on Spring.” Light luncheon in the sculpture court follows.
The Baltimore Office of Promotion and the Arts has whittled down its pool of entries for the city’s prestigious Janet & Walter Sondheim Artscape Prize.
The Walters Art Museum is using the start of construction work on Hackerman House to outline a new vision for its Mount Vernon campus, from the way directors refer to certain buildings to what they display inside.
Who doesn’t enjoy a good old-fashioned game of chess with a glass of mead?
Does Federal Hill smell different than Mount Washington, Belair-Edison, Harlem Park or Dunbar-Broadway?
Clear your calendar for Sunday, May 22. That’s the day that Baltimore artist Lexie Mountain will host what she hopes will be a record-breaking game of telephone at The Walters Art Museum.
Art Outside 3 returns to Druid Hill Park this Sunday, May 17 from 11 am to 5 pm. This year’s art festival will feature more than 100 artists from around the Maryland region. They will be a diverse group who reflect a wide array of influences and inspirations from around the region. Among them will be Charles Cooper, a local Baltimore artist who lives on Eutaw Street in Bolton Hill and creates urban art inspired by Baltimore City, its local architecture and music.
Formerly a Baltimore City schools teacher, Charles decided several years ago to resign from teaching and focus on art full time. The result has been the creation of a large portfolio of colorful, fun and unique prints representative of Charles’ outgoing personality and perspective on Baltimore life.
Art Outside 3 will be Charles’ second year participating in this annual arts event. According to Charles, Art Outside is his most favorite arts event of the year thanks to its intimacy and the opportunity to really engage with visitors to the festival as well as other participating artists. “There is a great energy that pervades Art Outside,” said Charles. “Last year I had the opportunity to interact with people from all over the country who seemed genuinely interested in art, collecting art and learning what inspired me to create my works. This grassroots event provides a wonderful opportunity to bring people together from all over the City for a beautiful day around the lake in Druid Hill Park.”
Writer Gary Vikan–director of the Walters Art Museum from 1994-2013–reflects on his quick trip to Woodstock, a glorified study break during grad school, and what happened on the stormy way home.
“Wanna score a lid – $25?” Elana and I were in a small, old-fashioned grocery store attached to a gas station, on a rural highway in southern New York State. It was late morning, Sunday, August 18th, 1969. It was sunny and mild. We had stopped to gas up my 1968 red VW Beetle – the one that had yellow and lavender teardrop-shaped psychedelic decals in its rear windows, until a heavy-handed “pig” made me peel them off, claiming that they somehow blocked my view of the road. That VW was our understated hippy-mobile, and Elana and I were its understated hippies, on our way that morning to Woodstock. We had bought tickets just for Sunday, the last day of the festival, because Friday and Saturday, even in the dog days of August, were study days for grad-grind PhDs-in-the-making like us. The tickets, which I still have, were $7 each. That entrepreneurial hippy was offering us weed at what I knew was an inflated price because, I assumed, he had figured out we were Woodstock bound, and he guessed that we may not have planned ahead. A clue to our destination was the God’s eye, woven out of multi-colored yarn around two matchsticks, which Elana was wearing around her neck. She had picked it up the previous September somewhere between Big Sur State Park and the Esalen Institute, on California Interstate #1. We were hitchhiking, on our way to be part of the fifth annual Big Sur Folk Festival at Esalen. A small band of potheads in a VW van had picked us up; they were busily churning out God’s eyes in the intervals between stopping, in their paranoid delirium, once again to check out that odd knocking sound under the hood – a noise they heard but we could not.